


but you pay the bill (cause that's the deal)

by ropememory



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inception_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ropememory/pseuds/ropememory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/11941.html?thread=26209701#t26209701">this prompt</a> on inception_kink.  Also, concrit is welcome on this.</p>
    </blockquote>





	but you pay the bill (cause that's the deal)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/11941.html?thread=26209701#t26209701) on inception_kink. Also, concrit is welcome on this.

An important lesson that Saito learns early in his business career is that part of the battle in a negotiation is knowing who to negotiate _with_. Right now, for what Saito wants to accomplish, that person is Maurice Fisher.

“I’m willing to give you a controlling interest of the South American branch of Proclus Global,” Saito says. It’s the smallest part of the company, but it at least has some presence in the market whereas Fischer-Morrow has none. Saito knows that already having a foot in the door is preferable to clawing your way in, knows how much power this offer gives him.

“For... my son,” Fischer says. He sounds skeptical, like what Saito is offering is too much for what he wants. He might be right in his skepticism, but Saito wants something money shouldn’t be able to buy, wants an intangible power over his rival.

Saito inclines his head. “His virginity.” He can lose the South American branch. He’s got an idea on how to get it back later, anyway.

Saito doesn’t waver in his stare, and eventually Fischer reaches a conclusion.

“I’ll write up the paperwork. Once it’s signed, then he’s yours.” Fischer stands, as does Saito, and after a brief handshake, Saito leaves. He’s gotten what he wants, there’s no need to linger.

\--

“I don’t... I don’t want to do this,” Robert says, arms crossed over his chest as he’s hunched in on himself as much as possible. Even if he knows it won’t matter, he thinks he should probably protest anyway.

“Unless you have a better counter offer, you’re doing it,” Maurice says. “It’s a good deal for the company.”

And, _christ,_ Robert’s sixteen. His biggest problem should be _school_ , not his father selling him off to the highest bidder for the good of the _company._ He almost protests again, almost tries saying something else to get out of it, but he knows what Maurice would say, then, and there’s no way he could do anything besides what Maurice wants once “But you don’t want to disappoint me now, do you, Robert?” enters into the conversation.

\--

Robert’s sitting on the overstuffed, uncomfortable chair in the hotel room, arms wrapped around his legs that are pulled up against him, waiting. There’s a guard outside the door, either to make sure Robert doesn’t run away or that no one _dies_ during what everyone besides Robert seems to be viewing as a normal business transaction. Robert’s certain it’s mostly the first one, though.

He’s got on slacks and a button down, and his socks are still on, but his hair is long enough to flop into his face since it isn’t gelled back. Robert thinks he’s dressed more for an office than some elicit sexual encounter, but Maurice had insisted business was business and no one wears jeans to a board meeting. Robert’s pretty sure no one brings condoms and lube to a board meeting, either, but _those_ are sitting on the night stand mocking him.

Robert had unplugged the clock after five minutes had gone by and felt like _days._ He didn’t want to know how much time had actually passed, how long he would be used as nothing more than a bargaining chip.

When the door finally opens, Robert doesn’t jump in surprise, but he doesn’t get out of the chair, either. If he’s got to go through with this thing, he’s not going to make it any easier than it already has been.

Saito’s wearing a suit, complete with jacket, tie and waistcoat. Robert doesn’t have much experience with Saito, so he doesn’t know if this is normal attire or _dressing up,_ but it doesn’t matter what Saito’s wearing, because Robert won’t be getting out of the room until Saito’s satisfied.

“Hello, Robert,” Saito says, holding out a hand. Robert doesn’t want to take it, doesn’t want to leave the chair. Saito keeps his hand out, though, with an eyebrow raised. “There’s no need to be petulant.”

Robert doesn’t know what to say to that, wants to deny it. Instead, he uncurls, stands up and heads over to the bed, walking by Saito’s outstretched hand. “Let’s just get this over with,” he says. The quicker they start, the quicker Robert can focus on forgetting all about it.

“Don’t you want to know _why?_ ” Saito asks, taking off his jacket.

The part of Robert that wants to know is overshadowed by a need to keep the entire encounter vague. If Robert finds out _why,_ then there’s no alternate conclusions he can come to, no way to cope by pretending it wasn’t premeditated. In the time Robert takes the shake his head “no,” Saito’s taken his shoes off and pulled down the comforter on the bed.

Saito runs a hand from Robert’s shoulder to the top button of his shirt. “May I?” Saito asks.

Robert isn’t sure he could do it himself, anyway, so he nods and lets Saito undress him.

“On your back,” Saito says, once he’s gotten Robert’s clothes off.

Robert doesn’t want that, doesn’t want to have to _see_ what’s going on or have Saito see _him_ \--he’d much rather have his face smushed into the pillow, because he thinks it would be easier to pretend to be somewhere else, some _one_ else that way. Instead of protesting, though, Robert does what he’s told. At the very least, no one can say he doesn’t know how to follow directions. Saito follows him onto the bed, still fully clothed except for his jacket and shoes.

“This might hurt,” Saito says as he puts lube on his fingers, before moving his hand down so a finger can press against Robert’s ass, insistent in its demand for entry.

Robert tries to relax, knows it’ll hurt less if he does, but Saito’s fingers inside him feel awkward and uncomfortable and he _can’t._ He doesn’t look down at Saito, keeps his eyes on the ceiling and tries to breathe. And it’s _fine,_ it’s getting _better,_ until he sees Saito in his periphery leaning over to the table to get the condom. Robert’s abruptly brought back to the fact that Saito’s here _specifically_ to have sex with him, and he panics and tenses up again.

Everything’s louder, now that Robert’s paying attention. He can hear Saito’s belt, button and zipper being undone, can hear the rustle of fabric as Saito pushes his pants down. The crinkle of plastic as the condom’s being opened almost has Robert getting out of the bed and _leaving,_ but there’s the guard and his father and leaving’s not an option for him.

Robert grips the sheets, head turned to the side with his eyes closed as Saito slowly pushes into him, Saito’s arm is pressing against Robert’s legs to keep them up against Robert’s chest. Robert’s teeth are biting his bottom lip so he doesn’t let out a whine. _Might_ was a damn lie, he thinks. His father’s disappointment would probably hurt _less._ At least that would be a pain he’s used to.

Once Saito gets into a sort of rhythm, the pain is no longer an overwhelming sensation so much as a dull throb. Robert’s grip on the sheets lessens as Saito moves in and out of him, but his head stays turned and his eyes stay closed. There’s not much noise in the room besides the low hum of the air conditioner and the harsh pants of Saito’s breath. If Robert’s making any noise, it doesn’t register to him. The tears, though, register as a vague dampness.

“Look at me,” Saito says, hand moving up to the side of Robert’s face, making Robert turn his head. His thumb trails across Robert’s cheek, disrupts the path his tears were taking. “Open your eyes.” Robert does, but only because Saito’s stopped moving, because Saito’s pressed into him far enough that Robert can feel that Saito's still clothed and everything is a slow, small movement, and those are _worse,_ they make it harder for Robert to think about something else.

Saito says something that Robert can’t understand, and his thumb moves to Robert’s lips. When Robert opens them to take Saito’s thumb into his mouth, Saito gives him a small smile and a soft “Very good.” Robert closes his eyes again, pretends he _wants_ to be doing this, pretends he’s actually gotten into it, and that seems to work well enough, because Saito starts moving and doesn’t tell Robert to open his eyes again.

Robert doesn’t keep track of how long it takes Saito to finally come, but by the time he does with a short grunt, the fabric moving against Robert’s skin is starting to feel like the beginning of a rug burn.

Saito pulls out once his cock has softened some, and the bed creaks a little as he gets off it to head to the bathroom. Robert can’t decide if he should curl up on his side or get up and get dressed. He _wants_ to take a shower, but that’s not an option at the moment.

The sound of a faucet turning off stalls any action Robert might take, and then Saito’s back in the room.

“Thank you,” Saito says as he’s putting back on his shoes and jacket.

Robert can’t return the sentiment, but he’s spared having to when Saito leaves the hotel room shortly thereafter. With Saito gone, Robert lets himself _sob,_ and he does end up curled in on himself, the lingering physical pain not nearly as bad as the emotional.

\--

“I have no idea how your father pulled it off, but somehow he got the company into South America,” Browning says when Robert runs into him the next morning.

“Yeah, great,” Robert replies. He thinks maybe getting rid of the South American branch will be the first thing he does if he ever takes over Fischer-Morrow.


End file.
